Until It Happens To You
by Jayne DLM
Summary: Hermione is not coping after what happened. WARNING: non con themes. Originally published as part of the DramioneLove Mini Fest 2016.


Author's Notes: I wanted this story to be an honest and authentic account of what a survivor of rape may go through. Trigger warning: Non-con.

 **Until It Happens To You**

If you had asked me to describe who Hermione Granger was a few months ago, I would have said she was determined, strong, tough as nails. She'd survived a war, after all.

Today, however, as I find myself on the cold bathroom floor, shaking and in tears, I do not know who I am. I am a shadow of the girl I once was. I miss being her. She feels like a long lost friend from whom I am estranged. I miss how she viewed the world. She was confident, not only in herself, but in others. She trusted in the good that existed in everyone.

I bitterly laugh, realising how times have changed. I know beyond anything else that I will never be that girl again.

For the first time in months, I stare at the stranger I have become in the mirror.

My hair is a mess, not just unruly and frizzy, but over the last few months it has been falling out, and now looks wispy and unhealthy. I assume this can be attributed to stress. I have dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep. I notice that I have lost weight, as my face looks gaunt and my collar bones are noticeably protruding.

The truth is that I hate myself, and I wish I was dead.

I wish I could go back to being "her", but I know it is impossible. It seems one cannot dance with the Devil and come away unscathed.

Now I find myself thinking of that night. Thinking of him.

I thought Draco was my friend. I trusted him.

We had all gone out for drinks after work at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As a team, we worked hard and played hard. We started the night at a pub, but quickly moved on to a popular club called 'Incendio'.

We were having fun, drinking irresponsibly and dancing without shame. Too many shots were had at the bar. We laughed at everything and at nothing. The strong and never-ending bass surrounded me and vibrated through my ribcage as I moved to its hypnotic beat on the dance floor. Truth be told, I was a bit of a wildcat on the floor, dancing suggestively with any of my teammates. They knew that it was just a bit of fun, letting off some steam after a hard week at work.

Even now I cannot remember dancing with him that night, although I am told by others that I did.

I do, however, remember admiring the floating glitter that was constantly swirling around the ceiling to the beat of the music. I remember the enchanted, magnetic blue flames that surrounded the dance floor and wanted to know the specific incantation that was used. Truthfully, it wasn't until I almost fell over on the dance floor admiring the colours from the swirling laser lights that I conceded that I had consumed far too much alcohol, and needed to go home.

I still remember him chivalrously offering to Apparate me home, to my flat. I remember arguing with him, my words slurred as I pronounced that I was well enough to get home on my own.

Eventually, I gave in to his persistent offer of an escort.

It wasn't until he led me out of the club and wrapped his arms around me to Apparate that I felt a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. My body was trying to warn me that, despite everything, I was indeed not safe. Foolishly, I ignored it.

As we landed, I felt dizzy and nauseous. It took me a moment to gain my bearings before I realised that I was, in fact, not in my apartment, but in a bedroom.

He didn't offer any explanation. He just looked down at me with a wicked smile and an unfamiliar glint in his eye.

"You know what happens next," he said with a nasty smirk.

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open upon realising the implication of his words.

It was only then that I realised his arms were still around me. Unfortunately, my body was weak and uncoordinated from the effects of the alcohol in my system. I tried to struggle, to free myself from his strong grip, but it was useless. The more I struggled, the tighter he held me, until I felt increasingly weak from my efforts.

He dragged me to his bed and roughly flung me down onto the mattress. His grey eyes were dark and predatory as he threw his entire weight onto my comparatively smaller body and held me down with little effort. I gasped as he pried my legs apart, and screamed as he thrust one hand up my skirt to grope my sex. With his other hand, he ripped my blouse and broke the front clasp on my bra. With sweaty, aggressive hands, he squeezed and pinched my breasts.

I struggled and tried to get away, but he was simply too strong for me.

I remember sobbing and praying aloud, "No, no, no, please," with increased desperation as I lay powerless under him. I remember the terrifying sound of his zip coming down.

I remember feel limb-locked and frozen, disbelieving what was happening until I felt him thrust into me without warning.

I let out a loud howl of pain as he savagely took me against my will.

Grunting, thrusting, sweating, powering into me.

It hurt, it humiliated me. I felt only fear and helplessness.

For months I have been living with those memories, and I have not told a soul. "She was drunk, she led him on," they will say, and so I keep my shameful secret.

I just want to forget, but I can't.

The sound of a zipper coming down drives me into a panic attack.

I cannot stand to be touched, as I can still feel him on me and inside me.

No matter how hard I scrub my skin, I can never be truly clean, as his fluids are within me forever.

Until it happens to you, you won't know how this feels.


End file.
